Depth
by TheShoelessOne
Summary: [DMC] In which Elizabeth convinces Norringinton not to kill himself. Slight Norribeth, mostly onesided.


**Depth**

Norrington had never killed himself before, and wondered if this was quite the way to do it. He weighed the cannonball in one hand, then the other, testing it carefully. His Navy mind grumbled at the holes where sea water and barnacles had taken ahold of the ball and worn pockmarks into its surface. He quickly forgot it, however, remembering that the aerodynamic imperfections in the ball would not matter as it settled into the silty sea bottom, taking the man to the crushing depths with it. His serious frown doubled in appearance as he tucked the ball under his arm and walked up onto the deck.

It was night, and, naturally, anyone who was to witness his plunge was either asleep, nearly asleep, or swilling rum like water, too drunk to even care. The night watch were tucked away on their respective sails, and Norrington paid them as much notice as they paid him. He made his way ploddingly toward the bow, shifting the weight of the cannonball from one hand back to the other. He completely missed the shadowy figure climbing down the ratlines from the mainmast in the darkness.

Her feet touched the deck quietly, and she peered inquisitively after the former Commodore. It was too dark to tell whether he had another bottle of rum in his hands or not. She had pestered him to quit, seeing the toll it had taken on him the past few months. She padded softly after him, not wishing to disturb the obvious reverie he was in, but still curious as to his motives. His stride was unwavering and constitution intact, so he had obviously not been drinking. What, then, was he passing so nonchalantly from hand to hand?

He had finally reached the bow, and stared forward into inky blackness, which he hoped soon to become as well. Part of the darkness, part of the nothing down below that was left solely to the imagination. There was pain and humiliation above. Who knew what awaited him below? He balanced the cannonball in his right hand while he grabbed onto one of the taut ropes overhead to pull himself up on the railing next to the bowsprit.

Elizabeth nearly leapt from her skin when she saw the familiar shape of the object in Norrington's hand, and his dead resolve focusing on the sea below him. He clasped firmly to the rope, his only connection keeping him from plunging forward into the water. Her face paled when she realized that was his intent. She could not help herself when she dashed forward, calling out:

"James!"

He turned at her voice, spinning quickly and almost losing his balance. She halted three feet from where he stood on the railing, towering even further over her. Her eyes were as wide and frightened as his, both staring questioningly at one another. He slowly lowered his defenses, his hackles lowering.

"James, what on earth are you doing?" She asked breathlessly. He looked at the round object heavy in his right hand.

"You've never seen a man try to kill himself, Elizabeth?" He asked calmly, turning the cannonball to examine it. Elizabeth made no noise-- her face simply grew paler. "I admit, a pistol would have been quicker, but the noise would be unbearable, and I would hate for our dear Captain to clean up the mess I left behind."

"Please don't talk like that, James. You're frightening me." And he honestly was. Her heart was in her throat, hammering away at her insides until she was left to shake in her boots.

"I was hoping to take my plunge while you were safe in your hammock," he admitted quietly. "I didn't want to trouble you."

Elizabeth dared to inch forward, holding her hand out toward him. "Come on. We can talk as long as you'd like, but this isn't the answer. You aren't just hurting yourself-- people care about you, James."

He turned to her with lowered eyes. "Name three."

She paused, curling the fingers of her outstretched hand in thought. "Well, I-- You are a very dear friend to me..."

As a way of response, Norrington held up one finger. His lidded gaze did not lighten.

"I'm sure Will... appreciates you..." She was already struggling. Norrington could tell, for he did not lift a second finger. "Jack--" She cut herself off before she began with Jack. She was allowed only another precious few seconds before Norrington interrupted her.

"You see, Elizabeth, I am hardly a man worth saving. Precious to no one, friend to so few. Life in shambles, torn to shreds by the pirate sitting warm in his cabin, without a care in the world." He shook his head. "The only woman I have ever loved betrothed to another." He met her gaze again, and her paleness turned suddenly to bright blush against the cold air. "Forgive me; I don't mean to insinuate that the scarecrow before you is your doing."

"James--" She again stilled her own voice, afraid of what she might say. The knowledge suddenly weighed upon her, that James Norrington was still helplessly in love with her, and the only reason he admitted it was due to the fact he planned to throw himself into the sea. She held out her hand again, more sadness in her voice than she had planned. "Please, come down."

He stared blankly down into the black water beneath them. He tested the air by raising one foot as if to step into nothingness. Elizabeth inched forward again, desperately willing her fingers to intertwine with his, to pull him back. His boot returned to the railing, and, surprisingly, he lowered himself into a sitting position. His feet dangled over the edge of the ship, daring the waters to take him, and cannonball balanced in his lap. His eyes were empty, lost somewhere in the past, seeing images long gone where the dark bowl of the sky should be.

"I could see you from the fort," he said in a low, helpless voice. "When you would go down to the docks. I could see you from the battlement." Elizabeth approached from behind, slowly, and their gap closed. "You came to see the ships. The day the _Interceptor_ came from England, you were there." He lowered his voice. "You were beautiful."

He took his gaze to the cannonball in his hands, rolling it slightly, hardly feeling its weight anymore.

"Some days, you would just stand at the edge of the dock, staring out of the harbor, toward the ocean. With your hands at your side, you would give yourself to the wind, asking it to take you wherever it was off to. I watched you beg the wind and the sea for the adventure you'd always dreamed of." He turned his face to the sky. "I watched, and I blindly wished that I might be the man to show you that adventure." He paused, then, in his lowest voice yet, he added, "I often wondered what it might be like to kiss you."

He was silent for another long moment, before Elizabeth placed her hands on his shoulders.

"You don't want to die, James," she said, almost demandingly. Norrington shuddered a long sigh.

"You're right." He turned his head slightly, meeting her eyes. She offered a smile. He allowed her to turn him from the sea, the cannonball rolling useless across the deck, and stand before her, feeling useless and empty.

He wondered why Elizabeth was on her toes. He was stunned when he felt a chaste, warm kiss press against his lips. It was sudden and quick, over before he could register what had happened. He stared down at her in shock, not surprised that his face was suddenly flushed.

"Now you don't have to wonder anymore," she said almost shyly.

He struggled for words, looking more like a fish than he had hoped. He knew that it had meant nothing to her. Something between friends, something without subtext or anything to be misconstrued. It had been caring, but in no way had it been loving. It stung him and warmed him in the same instant.

She was almost gone from sight before he found his voice.

"Thank you," he said in a hidden voice. She looked up, and smiled.

"Come on," she prompted, heading below decks.

He remained where he stood by the bowsprit, and looked over into the water again. He imaged the pressure squeezing the air from his lungs, which was suddenly frightening to a man who had only minutes ago held a cannonball in his hands. He stared at the black water, begging him to jump, pleading for him to join the other thousands at the bottom of the sea. He scowled at his own image in the water.

_This life may not be worth living by my standards, but it is important to someone I love. You won't have me._

He strode away, following Elizabeth into the bowels of the ship, letting a different darkness take him into the realm where adventure had no consequence.

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AN: I know I should be writing another chapter of Greater Good, but this plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone. I move in to my dorm tomorrow and though I should just get this outta my system. Hope you like! I take con. crit. very well, so don;t worry about that. Thanks for reading, and have a great day!


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